The contract to Odhin. I do this offering every Yule, and he stays out of my life. I hope. 
It’s pretty much a normal Sunday until, around about midday, we set off up-country, to a farm on the other side of Hereford. Actually, it’s not pretty much a normal Sunday, as I don’t think of Odhin (or the Ferryman, as I prefer to call him) and never speak to him, if I can help it. But this morning he’s tempting me. It’s a lost argument: the Ferryman always prefers to come first with people, and Mr Forester simply won’t have it. And I’m Mr F’s, so that’s that.
So off to Newton Farm for the perry. This time, as well, I’m there to buy some cider for a friend. So we do the tasting to make sure I buy the right cider (medium) and Farmer Thomas asks if I want 2 litres, and I say no, I want 16 litres. Then we try the perry. The Ferryman always wants the perry. Oh boy – this year the dry perry is wonderful! I take 4 litres – two for us and two for him. Plus a bottle of fizzy perry for Fortuna, when I next visit Pomona. Farmer Thomas and Tony chat about local people and Farmer Thomas throws in the bottle for Fortuna and the mistletoe free.
Then the long drive up to Westhope Common. Nope – no chance of taking the car through the mud, so I back up, reverse down Farmer Lee’s yard, and park on the verge. A tractor should just about get past the car.
Up on the common, battling with the wind and avoiding the sheep, to the very top, where the small pond with the rock is, which we failed to find last year. Toast to various gods and pour two litres of Farmer Thomas’s finest on the rock.
On the way back we visit a garden centre on spec. We fancy a coffee. We get slightly more than we expected, in the shape of two bowls of soup, having only ordered one. And the eccentric baroness who runs the local owl shelter, who has brought in four owls and engages us in chat. One of the barn owls is one of only five melanistic barn owls in the UK. She’s stunning – a dark brown, with dark eyes. I tell the baroness about the first owl I sponsored at the National Birds of Prey Centre – a burrowing owl, and she shows me a drawing she has of Owain Glendower – a burrowing owl she brought up and who rules her house as a benevolent dictator. Tony buys the picture for me for a Yule present. 
We fail to find a bird feeder we can hook onto the fence, but we do find a wall-web of fairy lights I really wanted to buy, at 50% off.
It won’t do any good. I’m still Mr Forester’s. 
The fairy lights worked beautifully – a wall of twinkling lights over the altar.; we opened our present under their light, drinking hot mulled wine. The mistletoe is draped under the outside light by the green man plaque, and over the goblin outside the front door. Yule dinner was slow cooked beef with yorkshire puddings, roast parsnip and boiled potatoes, with onion gravy.
A good Yule!
